Building on the Ruins
by HedgieX
Summary: Based on Celia and Alan's wedding, and the feelings of everyone attending. Caroline is delighted her mother is finally settled, and generally more content with her life than she's been in a long time, but Kate is struggling to cope with her own family issues. This will probably feature Gillian more prominently later because I love the relationship between Caroline and Gillian too.
1. Chapter 1

Last Tango in Halifax | Building on the Ruins

Celia and Alan had decided on a quiet ceremony in the chapel at Caroline's school. Even prior to Alan's heart attack, neither of them had been keen on the idea of having ghosts as guests at their wedding, but as he'd recovered in hospital Celia had made her intentions clear; something simple for family and friends, and a drink back at Gillian's farm afterwards.

Since her falling out with her mother over Kate, Caroline had felt a renewed closeness to Celia, and she was delighted that she'd found happiness with a lovely man. It sounded, to use one of Lawrence's words, cringey, but Caroline felt as though she'd gained a new family too. After their original bad start, Caroline and Gillian had grown close, and Raff was well-mannered and got on well with her own sons too.

All in all, with John out of the way and a perfect partner in Kate, Caroline was more settled and content with her life than she had been for a long time.

Kate's arm brushed hers as she fiddled with the service sheet. Caroline tried to catch her eye but Kate continued to look studiously down at the booklet. It was understandable that she was nervous, Caroline thought, given that the chapel was filled (not as quiet as Celia had planned, apparently) with people who might potentially be hostile about their relationship. It was funny that Caroline had originally been the cautious one, and now she wanted to shout about Kate from the rooftops. She'd spent too long denying her sexuality.

"You ready for the Queen of Sheba, then?"

Kate nodded. "I should go and get the organ ready, actually. See you after."

"Good luck."

Caroline had heard Kate play the piano before, one night after school, when she'd promised to come and find her after a meeting with Gavin that had dragged on. Kate had been engrossed in her music, her hands flying over the keys like they were free from her body, free from the hassle of life. She hadn't realised Caroline was behind her until she'd laid a hand on her shoulder.

"That was magnificent. _You're_ magnificent," she'd whispered.

Kate had shuffled along the piano stool and taught Caroline to play Three Blind Mice, an activity which had caused hysteria because of how uncoordinated Caroline was.

"I'll stick to chemistry."

"_Bonne idée_," Kate had said, still struggling to regain her composure. Caroline had thrown a sheet at her, for being so clever and so beautiful and so smug.

"Look at Gran," William nudged her now.

Caroline stood up to admire her mother, who was hovering by the entrance, "Oh, Mum, you look beautiful."

"I thought it was the bride who was supposed to arrive late."

"You know what they're like. I'm sure he'll be here in a minute."

Celia was wearing a white dress with a white bow around the waist, and a white veil in her hair, which she'd thrown back over her grey hair to reveal a soft face and warm eyes filled with excitement and trepidation.

"He'd better not be drunk."

"He's probably got his feet up at home reading the Guardian whilst Harry tries to find his bow tie or something."

Celia smiled, happy to play along and calm her nerves, "I'm really going to have to convert him to the Daily Mail, aren't I?"

"Really, Mum, you look lovely."

"So do you. And just look at you two," she held out her arms to William and Lawrence, "Very dapper, you– Alan."

He strode up the aisle, if anything looking more healthy than he had done before the heart attack. Although his walk was slightly faltering, his face was smoother, as though it had grown younger with happiness, and he looked slim in his suit. There was a white carnation tucked into his button hole which matched her dress exactly; they looked a wonderful couple, and Caroline allowed herself to feel proud of them both, and of her sons, and of herself too.

Gillian rushed across, looking surprisingly dolled-up in her lilac dress too, a world away from the farm. Her lips looked as though they might split with the strain she was causing them by smiling so widely. "Dad, Celia, you both look _perfect_."

The vicar coughed, and Alan raised his eyebrows at Celia, "Come on, you, or we'll be in trouble again."

Caroline surprised herself by having to wipe her eyes several times during the service. She very rarely cried – as a rule, didn't allow herself to cry – but today she was so happy she felt she didn't need to uphold the emotional barriers any more. She held William to her on one side, and Lawrence on the other, her eyes filling with fresh tears as the vicar announced that they could now kiss.

She couldn't see anything in the world that could possibly go wrong with this moment. Her family hadn't always been lucky in the past, and neither had Gillian's, but they could make up for it now. She couldn't believe the happiness that was coursing through her, so concentrated that it felt strange to admit even to herself how delighted she was that everything was finally okay.

She was rooting through her handbag for a new tissue when William nudged her, and she became aware that a hush had fallen over the congregation. Her immediate thought was Alan, but she could see that he was standing beside Celia as he had been, his arm around her and his chin nestled in her hair, both of them facing the organ loft.

Caroline looked up and saw that Kate had abandoned the organ seat and was now rushing down the stairs. In the silence that had fallen, she could hear the muffled sobs that she was making, she could see the way that she was stumbling on the stairs in her heels, very nearly tumbling down the last couple in her rush to get outside. She didn't look back before she ran out.

"I don't–" Caroline trailed off, realising how bizarre her voice sounded. The tears were frozen on her cheeks, as though they were considering changing from tears of happiness to something else.

"I think she's upset, love," Celia said quietly, "Maybe you should go after her. It's alright, we're pretty much done here, aren't we, Alan?"

Caroline nodded and left the chapel, aware of the trail of eyes lighting her way with their blazing inquisitiveness. It didn't take her long to find Kate, who was slumped against the wall a couple of metres along the corridor with her head against her knees, her sobs shaking her.

She sat down beside her, crossing her legs, realising she was probably a bit old for this position now. She reached out and laid a hand on Kate's; the hand beneath hers was pulled away hastily.

"Oh, Kate," she said softly, "What's wrong?"

It hurt her to see Kate suffering, she realised. It hurt like it did when William had been bullied, and when Lawrence had fallen on his ankle last week and tears had come to his eyes. It also hurt her that Kate wasn't letting her in. She supposed this was going to be a monologue.

"It's a little bit like déjà vu, this. I remember when I was sitting on the floor in my office crying. And you were there for me then, Kate, so I'm going to be here for you now, even though I don't know what's wrong. Even if you don't want to tell me, I'll be here for you."

"Just– go back to your– your mum."

"So much has changed since then. I don't just feel like the black clouds had lifted now; I feel like they've been replaced by those fluffy clouds you get in the middle of summer. And that's because of you. I know it's not always going to be easy, us being like this, but would it be fun if it was easy, hey? The boys love you. My mum is so happy with Alan, bless her. Everything's fine, Kate."

"Just–" Kate's voice was smothered with sobs.

"I can't make it better if you don't tell me." _Once a head teacher, always a head teacher._ She pulled Kate to her, and this time her girlfriend didn't try to move away, but sobbed into Caroline's dress instead. Caroline found herself wondering how difficult it would be to remove mascara stains from coral silk as she stroked Kate's hair like she was a child. "What's happened, Kate? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so selfish, I've ruined it."

"Of course you haven't, nothing can ruin it for them. They've got each other," she said, "And you've got me. Which may not be much of a consolation, but–"

Kate half-laughed, "No, it is, it is."

"Look. Je aime tu."

"Je t'aime."

"I was nearly right," Caroline rocked Kate gently.

"It's just– I don't know, I'm happy too."

"You don't seem it."

"No, it's just seeing your mum, and Alan. It just makes me think of my dad, and of what's happening to him. Celia and Alan are so happy, and he's so sad– well, he's not sad, he doesn't even understand what's happening to him any more. It's like watching him die a little bit more every week, it makes me feel sick, and I can't do anything to help him, can I? I've told him about you, I want him to know that I'm happy with you, so he knows he's not– he's not failed, but he just looks straight through me, I just–"

"Oh, Kate. I'm sorry."

Kate just sniffed into Caroline's chest, and it was so far from what Caroline had come to expect, so different from the flirty Kate she knew, the one who was so dependable and kind and loyal, that she wanted to cry too.

"I'm sorry," she said again, and there didn't seem much more to say, so she just kissed Kate's hair and held her and whispered soft nothings, and wished she could do something.

XxXxX

**Please review if you have a spare moment, I'd love to know what anyone thought. I'll probably write a second chapter at some point, if I can fit it in around revision x**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two | Building on the Ruins

Caroline drove Kate home, once she'd calmed down. William very kindly offered to come with them – which brought tears to Kate's eyes all over again – but Caroline had told him it would be better if he stayed with Lawrence. Both she and Kate were consumed by silence during the journey; once, Caroline reached across to lay a hand on Kate's knee, but Kate didn't react, and she had to move her hand back to swerve around a Ford Focus that appeared to be on its last legs. Or wheels.

"Kate," she said gently, when they pulled up outside the house, "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"You've got the boys to think about."

Caroline saw that Kate avoided a direct 'no'. That was something infuriating about Kate; she was too selfless to confess to needing someone. "You're important to me as well. The boys will be fine with Mum and Alan."

"I'm alright. Just tired."

Kate's house looked small, nestled at the end of the neighbourhood, but Caroline felt a sudden pang of longing for a house like this. Hers was so big it seemed devoid of character, whereas Kate's sofas were a little worn and crammed into her living room, and they seemed to make the place feel warm.

"At least let me come in with you. I'll make you a coffee."

"I think I'll just go to bed, actually. You know, read something for a change. I never get the chance to read any more, not properly. I just read essay after essay, with all the same mistakes, the tenses are wrong and the accents point the wrong way. I don't mind reading them, of course I don't, I just–"

"You're not alright, are you?" Caroline asked, flicking the headlights off. The corner of the street was bathed in light from the solitary streetlamp, but not a lot of the light filtered through the windscreen, and so they sat in darkness.

"I will be."

"You should have told me how you felt, about my mum and Alan, about your dad."

Kate didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Caroline knew she didn't ask enough about Kate's feelings, it was take-take-take, and she didn't give Kate time to take things back. It wasn't representative of her feelings; she loved Kate like she loved William and Lawrence, she cared about her feelings like she did about theirs. Yet it was so simple to allow a child to open up to you, and so hard with adults, because their problems couldn't always be solved with a hug. Caroline was so used to pushing people away that it was hard to let Kate in.

"I'm sorry," Caroline said.

Kate reached across and took her hand in the dark, "It's not your fault. You deserve to be happy, I shouldn't lumber you with my problems."

"Of course you should. That's how these things work."

"Maybe." Kate dropped her hand and opened the car door.

Cool breeze wafted into the car, and the scent of sweet flowers, which felt slightly juxtaposed to Caroline, in the darkness. She felt as though the intimacy of their relationship was leaving the car as the cold entered.

"Please, let me come in with you."

Kate shook her head, "I'll ring you tomorrow. Say congratulations to Celia and Alan from me."

"Kate–"

Caroline sat in the car until long after Kate had gone into the house. Part of her wanted Kate's curtains to part suddenly and her face to peer through the window, her eyes filling with relief when she realised Caroline hadn't left. The curtains stayed firmly shut.

XxXxX

"Are you alright, lad? Where's William got to?"

Lawrence shuffled along Gillian's sofa and allowed Alan – he supposed he was his grandad now, in a way – to sit down beside him. "He went outside with Raff, to see a lamb or something. I said I didn't want to go."

"Oh. Don't want a drink or 'owt, do you?"

"I'm okay."

The house was quite quiet now. Earlier, it had been filled with people, Alan's friends and his gran's friends, and family from both sides. Gillian and Celia had gone out onto the front to wave off the last few stragglers.

"You can pay for all these blinkin' taxis," Gillian had shouted to Alan as she'd slammed the front door, although she'd been grinning, "All these twits who thought it would be a good idea to bring their cars to a weddin' party. God knows."

Lawrence thought how different Gillian looked when she wasn't wearing a coat and driving a tractor. She was really quite pretty, like his mum.

He could feel Alan's eyes on the side of his face. It wasn't a sharp gaze, like his mother's was when she wanted him to tell her what was wrong; it was warm, like Alan was prepared to wait as long as he needed to for Lawrence to explain.

"Do you think Mum's okay?"

"I'm sure she is. She'll be back in a bit. We'll get the sleeping bags down and you lads can sleep in here tonight, it probably wouldn't be much good for Celia's back to sleep on this floor. And anyway, it's our wedding night," Alan chuckled, "You don't mind things being a bit cosy, do you?"

"No." Lawrence shrugged. He liked Gillian's farmhouse, the little kitchen you could cross in two strides and the fireplace that Alan had lit a fire in earlier, when dusk had fallen. "And Miss McKenzie. Do you think she's alright now?"

"Oh, don't worry, love, I'm sure she's fine too. I suppose everyone has sad days sometimes."

"Yeah. Mum does."

"So does my Gillian, although she tries to hide it," Alan took a cheese straw from the plate on the table, "Are you okay with everything, at the moment? You know, with your mum and– and Miss McKenzie, as you call her."

"She says I can call her Kate when we're not at school."

"That's a good idea."

"I want Mum to be happy. And she's been much better since Dad left, but it's– it's sort of weird. I don't want everyone at school to laugh at Mum."

"Your mum's made of pretty stern stuff. I don't think she'd left anyone laugh at her, would she now?"

He shrugged again, "I like Kate. Once, when I had no dinner money left on my card, she bought my lunch. She said the next time Mum's working late she'll help me make dinner as a surprise for her, she said we could make fajitas because Mum loves them."

Alan smiled, "She seems like a lovely lass. And you know, anyone who's unkind about your mum and Kate– about them being together, they're not worth listening to. It doesn't matter as long as they're both happy, and you and William happy. Some people might've laughed at me and Celia, but look at us now."

"Yeah." Lawrence leant across and helped himself to a cheese straw too. "I'll help you get the sleeping bags down, if you want."

XxXxX


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it's been a while since I've updated, but my exams are over now so I've got a bit more spare time on my hands, which has been lovely because I've been enjoying reading all of the Last Tango stories in the archive too! x**

Chapter Three | Building on the Ruins

Gillian was in the middle of kneading her scone mixture when her mobile phone rang. She ignored it the first time; Raff was upstairs doing homework (that was the official line, although she very much doubted it) and Alan and Celia were sitting on the wall outside talking about something and nothing. She didn't really care for anyone else.

The second time, she decided she should probably answer. She couldn't afford to lose her job over something trivial like refusing to come in at short notice; she just did what she needed to do to keep the boss happy, as a general rule, however much it inconvenienced her. It was a habit she'd got into when she was married to Eddie, trying to keep people happy, and she'd never really been able to shake that habit, even after his death.

She dusted off her hands as best she could and found her mobile beneath Raff's helmet. She hoped the dampness of the raisins wouldn't react badly with the phone battery. "Hello?"

"Gillian, it's Caroline."

"Oh, hi."

This would be another_ favour_ Caroline needed doing, then. Not that she particularly minded; once the bad feelings following their first meeting ("low-life, brain-dead trailer trash", and the like) had thawed, Gillian had found that she rather liked Caroline.

She evidently worked very hard, and Celia spoke very fondly of her on the occasions there hadn't been an argument of some sort. There was something attractive about her assuredness, perhaps because Gillian knew that her would-be sister (the coincidence with the birthdays still bemused them both) wasn't assured deep down.

Caroline still hadn't spoken again. Gillian tucked the phone between her shoulder blade and cheek, and began kneading the mixture again. "What can I do for you? Wondering where your mum's got to? She's sitting outside with Alan; her phone's probably buried somewhere beneath all this junk again. Do you want me to go and–"

"No, I rang to talk to you."

"Is everything alright?"

"Not really," Caroline said, her voice muffled, "No."

It wasn't true that she didn't care for anyone else. She cared for Caroline. "What's happened? Are the boys okay?"

"Yeah, they're– sorry, I shouldn't even be bothering you, it's just I don't really have anyone else to talk to. John's just–"

"A twat?"

"John's a twat, and I don't want to ruin my mother's day when she's so happy with Alan, so I didn't really know–" her voice shook and broke off again, "I'm sorry, are you busy?"

"No, I'm not doing anything important, me. Go on, what's up?"

"It's– it's Kate."

Gillian put the scone mix back in the bowl and wiped her hands on the dish cloth, then sat down on the sofa arm and tucked her legs up. There were some photos laid out on the coffee table; Alan had obviously been showing Celia. It pleased her to see one of them was of her mother, looking beautiful in a long burgundy dress. Her mother had always been beautiful.

"The stuff from the wedding? I thought that was all sorted now. I mean, obviously her dad's not sorted, he's still– but I thought Kate was okay."

"I don't know. I don't know if she's okay or not," Caroline said, "Oh God, sorry, I don't even know why I'm–"

"You don't need to apologise."

"No, I know, it's– she said on that night she didn't want me to go in with her, but she rang me the morning after, that was on Sunday, saying she was feeling better and she was sorry for ruining Alan and Celia's big day. She sounded fine, she said she was going to see her dad later on, she thought it would be better if I didn't go this time."

"That's sort of understandable."

"I know. I rang her on Sunday night to see how she was, and she was really drunk, I mean really– I don't think she even knew who I was. I know I should've gone round or something, but I was just angry. She barely drinks, just a bit of wine when we have dinner, and it just seemed so cowardly to get pissed. My dad used to drink a lot."

"So did Eddie."

Raff came hurtling downstairs, grabbing his helmet from the table and leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. 'See you later', he mouthed. He was going out with Robbie, and then Robbie was coming round for tea. "It'll be ready at five," she'd told him pointedly, and he'd said "Right," in exactly the same way he said "Right" to her pleas that she keep Raff safe. No doubt they'd arrive home about half seven.

"I didn't speak to her yesterday," Caroline continued, "Then today I thought I'd better make peace, because she's always been there for me, so I– I went round with– with some flowers, and her house is all locked up, the curtains are all shut and I tried both of her phones, but there was nothing."

Gillian's heart went out to her for the tremor in her voice. "Has she gone away or something? Maybe she needed a bit of space."

"I asked her neighbour and he said she'd asked him to put some food down for the cat, she told him she might not be back for a while. And I don't know what to do, Gillian, I thought she could've told me anything but she's– God, she could be anywhere, she probably thinks I don't give a damn about her. She was really upset, and I just–"

Gillian looked around at the chaos of the farmhouse. The newspapers (both The Guardian and the Daily Mail now) littered around, unwashed mugs and Raff's Xbox games laid out on the table. She tried to keep the house in some sort of order, but some days there were eight or nine people popping in and out, Raff's friends or Alan's friends or Celia's relatives.

Sometimes she thought about how much time she'd have to clean a home if she didn't have the farm to look after, but then she banished those thoughts; she adored the freedom the farm gave her, and the happiness she felt when she saw the first spring lambs bouncing around the field each year. Chaos wasn't always a bad thing. Sometimes it was quite nice.

"Do you want me to drive over?"

"Would you?"

XxXxX


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four | Building on the Ruins

She wouldn't jump, of course she wouldn't. She was far too cowardly for that.

Sometimes she thought about it, though, she thought about what would happen if she wasn't here any more. She tried to imagine a police officer announcing it to her loved ones; she could see their faces if she closed her eyes, hear their voices as they responded to the news that she'd been found dead.

'Loved ones' was a funny term; she wasn't sure who her loved ones were. Her father and Caroline, she supposed. Caroline was definitely a loved one to Kate, but was Kate loved by Caroline? She thought that Caroline had affection for her, definitely, that she enjoyed spending time with her, that she didn't want to hurt her, but did she _love_ her? It was difficult to tell with Caroline. You thought you knew her, but there was always another hurdle.

Yesterday she'd gone to see her father and he'd mistaken her for one of the nurses. She knew you were just supposed to go along with whatever they wanted to believe, but she couldn't, she couldn't let him throw away all the years they'd had together, when he'd taken her to the park and watched her perform in school concerts and done all of the things a dad should do for a child.

"I'm your daughter." "You're not my daughter. My daughter's called Kate." "I know, Dad, that's me, I'm Kate."

She'd taken his hand, shook it a little bit, just to try to make him understand, and he'd lashed out. It had happened quickly, gracefully, like a choreographed stunt in a police drama, he'd pushed her hand backwards and it had flown into her face with his strength (he may have been senile, but he was still strong) behind it.

Kate had once shown Lawrence how to crack open a coconut, and that was how it had felt, like her head was being cracked open and everything inside was being lost. The staff weren't even very kind to her; a nurse strapped some padding to her forehead and told her gruffly she might want to get it checked out at the hospital. They were probably angry at her for disturbing her father.

"He won't eat when he's upset," someone had told her. Didn't they think she was upset too? It was something she'd inherited; when she was wound up, she forgot about food, she had to force herself to swallow mouthfuls of toast in order to get through the day. There was something she could cling to; her father didn't know who she was, and she barely even recognised him any more, but at least they still shared one trait.

She checked her phone. She had four missed calls from Caroline and one from an unknown number, plus a plethora of texts. Was Caroline worried about her, or was she just worried about having to arrange cover for Kate's lessons since she hadn't turned up at work? The pain of seeing her father die a little bit more each day made her cynical.

A new text came through from Lawrence. He said she didn't need to come round (if she wanted to she could, and they'd play Scrabble) but please could she text his mum to stop her from worrying? Kate loved Caroline's children, William's intelligence and understanding, Lawrence's sweet nature and eagerness to learn. They were both very like their mother.

She took a leaflet out of her pocket, something she'd picked up from the travel agents' on the corner of town. It was folded open on a page about going to Russia. There were photographs of the elaborate gold-laced buildings, and the mournful ruins of the old Russian churches, and of Moscow in the snow. She'd had a conversation with her father a couple of weeks ago, in a rare moment of lucidity, where he'd described a holiday he'd spent with her mother once in Russia. His eyes had gleamed when he'd spoken of the fun they'd had; Kate had been suddenly hopeful, and begun to research the possibility that she could take him back to Russia, but now she saw that it couldn't happen.

"What?" she snapped at her phone when it vibrated again, nearly losing her grip on it as she fumbled to check the screen. The same unknown number as before.

"Hello," she said to the mystery person.

"Oh, hello, um– Kate."

"What do you want?"

"I was just–" they faltered again, "Hang on for just a second."

There was a shuffling at the other end of the line.

"Kate?" Caroline said.

Her voice unmistakably lovely, all frightened and tense. Kate said nothing, she sat on the edge of the cliff and swung her legs, looking down on the village below her. It was getting dusky now, the street lamps were warming up and she felt like she was in a fairy tale. Men, women, children walking up driveways and being greeted by their families at the front doors; a toddler on a trike in the street, plumes of smoke from a back garden where someone was burning unwanted things. Maybe photographs. _Oh, we don't need these, we have the memories._ Kate wished she had photographs of every day of her childhood, because then perhaps she wouldn't feel quite so much like she was losing it forever.

"Kate, it's me. I've been looking for you. Gillian's been driving me– you remember Gillian from the wedding, Alan's daughter? I've been– where are you? I just want to know you're safe and I'll leave you alone, if you want."

_I don't want to be left alone. I want you to hold me forever._

"I talked to the people at your dad's home and they said something happened. They said they thought you were upset. I'm really sorry, I'm sorry about my mum and Alan, and how that must feel to you. If I could, I would get rid of dementia so you didn't have to– but I can't, nobody can. And that's really horrible."

Kate's tears dribbled down onto the holiday leaflet.

"But you've had so many good years with your dad. Think about people who don't have dads at all." Caroline sighed, and Kate supposed she was thinking of her own dad; she never really spoke of her, but Kate knew their relationship hadn't been a good one. Or maybe she was considering John, and how he'd hurt the boys. "What happened at the home with your dad, Kate? Did he say something?"

"He doesn't know who I am."

"I know. Please, just tell me where you are and I'll come. I don't want you to be on your own."

"I'm sorry," Kate sobbed, "I should have been in school today, there's exams soon and I've got to–"

"That doesn't matter."

"Lawrence texted me. He said– he asked me to text you so you didn't worry about me, and he said we could– play Scrabble if I–"

"Kate," Caroline whispered.

Her tears acted as a solvent and the ink circle she'd drawn around the Russian holiday was running, like her dreams dissolving before her eyes. She wanted to go home, not to her own home, to Caroline's, and she wanted to sit on the sofa with Caroline on one side and the boys on the other and she wanted Caroline to play with her hair in the way that she only did in those occasional moments when she let her guard down entirely and just let herself love her girlfriend. That was what she wanted.

"Will you come and get me?"

XxXxX


End file.
